


It all comes out in the wash

by Conscious_ramblings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Cuddling, Fluff, Louis in Lingerie, M/M, Rimming, Sex, thats about it, this is kinda pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5640280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conscious_ramblings/pseuds/Conscious_ramblings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are flatmates at uni. In the month they have lived in halls, Harry has found lacy underwear in his laundry four times. At first he thought it was an innocent mistake. The second time he was just confused. The third time he started to sense a pattern. And when Louis walks in on him just after he discovers the fourth pair, well that’s when everything changes</p>
            </blockquote>





	It all comes out in the wash

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my darling ashlee/unintentionalarry who has a birthday today. Ashlee makes my days brighter and never fails to make me smile, be it seeing her on my dash being kind and lovely or chatting away from here. I can’t give her a hug in person, but I like to pretend I can write smut, so she gets smut.
> 
> Also Alice who prompted this gets my eternal love always... but you all know that
> 
> This is the first time I have written fully from harry's POV, and it's rusty... so forgive me. It also hasn't been beta-ed but it's just 3k of smut... how wrong can it go?

The offending article was pink, lacy, and so small Harry wondered how on earth they managed to hold both Louis’ cock and his arse. It seemed like an either/or sort of a situation.

It was the fourth time this month that Harry had found his housemate’s lace underwear in with his laundry. The fourth time he had been pegging his laundry to the airer and found a pair of oh so small and oh so sexy pants. The first time he had assumed one of the others had had a girl home. By now he knew they were Louis’.

It had been a bit embarrassing that first time, sitting in the lounge, looking at those little tiny pants in amongst Harry’s boxers and t-shirts and jeans. The first pair had been purple, sheer with spots on. Harry didn’t know who they belonged to, it could have been any one of his four housemates. They had stared at Harry, taunting him, teasing him, calling to him while he tried to concentrate on who was being murdered this week on Hollyoaks. As he made his dinner, as he hoovered, as he tried to write a song, those damn pants had sat there, being all pretty and perfect. Harry wasn’t into girls, he just really liked small lacy things, especially the thought of Louis and said small lacy things.

He’d only lived with Louis for a month, after they had been thrown into a shared flat in halls by the uni administration. At least it was one of the nicer flats, with it’s own washing machine and en suites in each of their rooms. They had all bonded quickly in freshers week, drunk within three hours of moving in. Niall was a ball of energy, all blonde hair and Irish accent, who had rocked up with a crate of guinness and a hunk of beef he had roasted for them all. Liam was quieter, less inclined to get drunk and party, but had been won over by peer pressure. Zayn was artistic and spoke little, but when he did the whole flat shut up to listen. And Louis? Louis was loud, loud and loud. Flamboyant and a little sinister. You wouldn’t want to get on his bad side, but if you were his friend is was like you were orbiting around the sun.

The freshers ball had seen them all in the union, separated quickly as they ended up on different floors with different music playing. Harry had caught sight of Louis a few times, done some shots with him, seen him flirt with girls and boys alike, but kiss no one. It wasn’t exactly jumping to conclusions that Louis might be bi and the lace might have belonged to a girl.

The second time it happened though, Harry had been confused. His housemates definitely hadn’t been out in the few days preceding the incident. Harry and Louis had spent their evenings on the sofa together trying to get over freshers flu and make sure they eked out their meagre student loan so they still had money at the end of term. So it had been beers and homemade food rather than raging parties and flirting with anyone.

The third time Harry had started to get suspicious. Harry had thrown a load in the machine before leaving for his politics lecture, but knew he hadn’t had a chance to actually start the load. He had been out of persil and had planned on buying more on the way back to the flat. When he got home, however, his washing was finishing. Louis’ labeled bottle of ariel was sat on top of the machine, cap off, small dribble of washing liquid having worked it’s way from the lip to the counter in the time it had sat there. When Harry pulled out his clothes there had been a black lace thong in there that definitely wasn’t his. He had hung it up with everything else, tried to avoid seeing it when he was eating his spag bol and garlic bread that evening, tried not to see it when he was curled on the sofa under a blanket the next day reading his required chapter of Gleitman for his psychology class. Eventually the black lace vanished, just like the purple sheer spots had, and the soft grey lace boy shorts that Harry had wanted to bury his face in, if only that wasn’t so creepy.

But now he was faced with hot pink lace. Hot pink lace that by now he was certain Louis wore himself. Hot pink lace that he was also sure Louis had planted deliberately. Hot pink lace that he wanted to rip off Louis. Hot pink lace that could not be ignored.

Harry spent the afternoon trying to figure out how to deal with the lingerie question. He could continue to ignore the fact Louis was clearly sneaking underwear into Harry’s washing. That would probably be the sensible thing to do, because sleeping with his flatmate a month into term wasn’t high on his priorities, even one as stunning as Louis was. He had to live with Louis for at least nine more months. Harry wasn’t exactly known for his self restraint, however, which was why he found himself back in the kitchen fingering the still damp underwear that he had left in the machine until he could think of a plan.

That was how Louis found him. Knelt down in front of the washing machine, damp pink lace in his hand, fingers running absentmindedly over the lace.

“Afternoon, Harold. What’ve you got there?” There was a smirk loud and clear in Louis’ voice and it triggered something in Harry. Some annoyance at having been teased for a month, perhaps.

“You know exactly what I’ve got, seeing _you_ put them there.” He spun around and stood up as he spoke, lingerie still clasped in his fist. He and Louis were just centimetres apart. Louis at least had the audacity to look bashful. He gulped, throat moving just in Harry’s peripheral vision.

“I, um, that’s a baseless accusation, Harry.” Pink was colouring Louis’ cheeks, working it’s way up from his neck. Harry desperately needed to know if the blush went down too, if it covered Louis’ pretty tanned skin that he had caught glimpses of when they had been hungover and Louis had walked into the lounge in just a towel.

“Don’t be a dick, Louis.” Harry knew his voice was dark and filled with lust, he just hoped Louis misread it for anger right now. He couldn’t lose control, not when they still had to live here.

Regret flickered over Louis’ face, disappointment settling in his eyes. Did Louis really want this? Was it more than just a joke?

“It was just a joke, H.” Louis sounded so resigned and strangely _that_ was what made Harry lose control. _That_ was what made him grab Louis’ hips and spin him so he was trapped against the washing machine. _That_ was what made Harry press their lips together in a searing kiss.

Louis melted against him, like the only thing that had been holding him up was his disappointment. His lips parted against Harry’s and he let out a tiny whimper which was what sealed the deal. Harry wanted so fiercely, had wanted Louis for so long, especially as he had been taunted by lace and lingerie for a month solid, and now he was letting himself want it was like a dam had broken inside him.

Louis’ hips were canting desperately against Harry’s, clearly seeking more. Harry spun him again, so he was bent over the counter, arse pressed hard against Harry’s crotch.

“Are you..?” His question tailed off as he slipped a finger in the top of Louis’ tight jeans. “You’d better be.” The second half of his statement was almost hissed, arousal at the thought of Louis wearing the offending underwear he had teased Harry with.

“I am.” Louis whined, somehow understanding what Harry was getting at. And christ. The thought of Louis in them alone was enough to almost make Harry come. He took a second to take a deep breath, trying to think unsexy thoughts, but it seemed Louis had other plans with the way he ground his arse back against Harry.

Pushing him forward was almost impossible, losing the contact point felt like torture, but it meant Harry got to spread his hands over the firm expanse of Louis’ arse. He had fantasised about Louis’ arse on more than one occasion, especially since the underwear started to appear, but now he could indulge every fantasy he had ever had, and it was a lot. The edges of the lace Louis was wearing were visible under the tight jeans, Harry gently ran his fingers over them, hardly breathing, just watching and listening as Louis moaned under him.

“Harry, hurry the fuck up!” Louis effectively cut off Harry’s daydreaming. He reached round Louis, undoing the buttons of his fly before holding his breath as he pulled down the black denim.

White lace. White lace boyshorts that hugged the curve of Louis’ arse like a glove, cutting across the globes of each cheek. It was pure sin, the sight in front of him. Pure sin. Harry couldn’t be held responsible for his actions.

His first action was to sink to his knees and bury his face in the soft lace covered flesh, tongue darting out to wet the material that lay taut over Louis’ hole. It was too intimate a gesture for the first time being with someone, for having only kissed them for moments, but it was impossible to resist. It got even harder when Louis moaned and arched his back like a porn star, bent over the washing machine, lace clad arse pushing harder against Harry, seeking any possible increase in friction.

“Fuck! Harry!” Louis groaned out the words as Harry’s tongue worked under the lace, pushed to one side and bunched in his hand. “More, fuck, more. Knew you’d be good, I fucking knew it.”

Harry preened at the praise, moaning himself, knowing Louis would feel the vibrations through his skin. Louis tasted of sweat and musk and a sweetness that Harry couldn’t put his finger on, something that was just Louis, maybe. Flicks and licks over the tight muscle produced the most delicious flutterings under Louis’s skin, even as his hips gyrated trying to get Harry’s tongue deeper.

As much as Harry wanted to give Louis the ‘more’ he was currently crying out for, he needed more too. Pulling away he was met by a gratifying whine from Louis, one that spoke of wanting everything Harry could give him.

“Do you have stuff?” Harry patted down his own pockets in a vain hope that maybe he had some lube and a condom stashed away.

“Bedroom.” Louis panted, back still arched like a bow, pushing back wantonly against thin air in his desire.

“Don’t fucking move.” Harry bit out the words, annoyed that Louis didn’t plan ahead. He’d planned everything else, done his level best to seduce Harry with lace over the last month, but had forgotten they might need lube.

He grabbed Louis’ room keys from his pocket, before running down the corridor to Louis’ room faster than he had moved in months. A quick riffle through Louis’ bedside table found no less than four different types of lube and a large number of condoms. Harry would deal with that thought later. Grabbing some plain lube and two condoms, he raced back down to the kitchen where he found a sight that might kill a lesser man.

Louis had stripped off all his clothes apart from the panties, and was lying bent over the washing machine. The underwear were pulled down at the front and Harry could make out from the movement of his arm that Louis was lazily stroking his own cock.

“Stop it. I told you not to move.” Louis turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in question, eyes dark and blown with desire.

“Oh? Do you disapprove of me stripping, Harold?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, Harry was almost impressed that he could sound so controlled and cool when he was lying in the kitchen in just a pair of lace lingerie, cock hard and dripping, damp patch from Harry’s tongue still obvious from across the room.

“No touching, Louis. Want you to come just from me, from my touch.” Something flickered across Louis’ face, shock perhaps, before lust took over.

“How you gonna do that from all the way over there?” Louis challenged, hand still moving across his cock, speeding up even.

It took Harry three long strides to be across the room, to have both Louis’ wrists caught in one hand behind his back. If the way Louis hissed out a ‘yes’ was anything to go by, that was what Louis had been aiming for all along.

“Stay like this.” Harry ordered, his voice low even to his own ears. Louis did as he was told, which made Harry moan lowly as he slicked lube over two fingers. When the first finger touched Louis’ still spit wet skin he cried out, loud swears that made Harry hope he was right that they were the only ones in the flat.

Louis was so tight, clenching around one finger as Harry moved it in and out. He was gentle, scared to hurt Louis, not having enough experience of his own to be fully confident about this. There had only been a few guys before Louis, mostly fumbles at parties while at school, a few blow jobs, and one boyfriend with whom he had lost his virginity. Not enough to be sure how to make someone who wasn’t that one boy feel good though.

Before he knew it, Louis started fucking back on the finger, letting out little whimpers and high breathy moans as he did so. Harry added another, feeling the taut muscle stretch around him. He watched as Louis arched and off the counter, hands still clasped behind him like in some strange prayer.

When Harry finally found Louis’ prostate it was like something broke in Louis. He wailed and sobbed and begged for more like a man begging for his life. It was stunningly beautiful, and something Harry wanted to watch over and over for the rest of his life. He thought he might be ruined for anyone but this beautiful responsive boy forever.

Three fingers stretched into Louis, even as he chanted repeatedly at Harry that he was fine and could Harry please fuck him already. Harry didn’t want to hurt Louis, didn’t want to give Louis any reason to not want to do this again. Now he had seen Louis like this it would be a crime to go back to being just friends.

Harry pulled his fingers out, watching in awe as Louis’ hole clenched around nothing, searching for more. He didn’t take his eyes off it for a second as he fumbled with the condom packet and pushed down his own jeans before rolling the condom on to his own painfully hard cock. He hadn’t quite realised how hard he was until he touched himself, until he hissed at the contact. He just hoped this wasn’t over as quickly as he thought it might be.

He pressed forward, snicking his cock against the puffy rim of Louis’ hole. His cock caught there for just a second, pulling the skin down, opening Louis up slightly. Louis hissed, pushing back slightly.

“Hurry up Harry. Please. I’m sorry for putting the underwear there, please, just fuck me. Need you so bad, stop teasing, please Harry.” Harry pushed forward at the last word, burying himself slowly in Louis. It was tight and hot and everything Harry wanted. He had to pause when he was fully buried to catch his breath, to stop himself from coming on the spot.

“Move, please Harry, please fucking move.” Louis sobbed the words out, like he might actually cry if Harry didn’t move. Harry couldn’t deny him, didn’t want to deny him, and so he started to move, pushing in and out with his hands tight around Louis’ hips. His fingers pressed so hard he thought he would leave bruises, wanted to leave bruises.

Each thrust brought Harry closer to the edge, until he was teetering on it, desperately trying not to fall until Louis did. One hand snaked around to find Louis’ cock twitching and wet. As soon as Harry wrapped his hand around it Louis gasped, and started thrusting forwards and back erratically, trying to chase the stimulation from Harry’s cock and hand all at once. Harry didn’t move his hand, just loosely wrapped it around Louis and watched him do the work. It was beautiful, watching him fall apart like this.

Finally every muscle underneath him tensed, tight like a bow string before Louis came, come splattering over Harry’s hand and the washing machine below them. The noises he made were obscene, Harry was sure they would be heard three floors away, and they just spurred Harry on to his own orgasm. As Louis clenched and fluttered around him Harry lost it, falling over the edge and shuddering as he called Louis’ name like a mantra. Everything was Louis, he was surrounded in Louis. In his taste, his smell, the feel of his skin, the sounds of his moans. He drowned in Louis.

When Harry finally could make sense of things again he was curled in Louis’ lap on the floor. The condom was tied and wrapped in kitchen roll beside them, and Louis was pressing soft kisses into Harry’s hair as he murmured words Harry couldn’t quite catch.

“Back with me, Haz?” Louis pressed another kiss just behind Harry’s ear as he whispered the words. Harry could only hum in assent, words still failing him.

“Quite useless after sex aren’t you, love?” Louis giggled, the sound high and light and free. Harry could feel himself blushing but he didn’t care, being teased by Louis was something he thought he could put up with forever.

“Can’t believe it took you so long with the underwear, babe.” Louis continued, peppering kisses down Harry’s neck as he did so. “‘ve fancied you since the day we moved in. Thought it might take a week, two tops.”

“Wasn’t sure they were yours. Or what they meant.” Harry finally forced words out, shocked by how utterly wrecked he sounded.

“Really? Can you imagine Liam in panties? Or Niall? No, no, don’t answer that. Not sure I can cope with the mental images.” Louis gave an exaggerated shudder, making Harry giggle despite himself. “And what do you mean what they meant? Isn’t it obvious?”

“I dunno, you could’ve pulled some girl.” Louis pulled away slightly, looking at Harry with an offended scowl on his face.

“As if, curly.” He tugged one curl as if to emphasise his point. “It’s just boys for me. Well, just one boy for me actually.”

Harry could feel himself blushing again as he stared wide eyed at Louis.

“Yeah?” He breathed the word, worried that speaking louder might shatter this fragile new reality. An hour ago he had been a mix of annoyed at Louis and aroused, worried he was being teased with the underwear, it wasn’t out of the realms of possibility to think this might have been a dream.

“Yeah.” Louis’ answer was decisive and strong, full of the determination with which he seemed to live every day of his life. “Now, let’s go cuddle before the others get back. My room or yours?”

They fell down the hall together, giggling as they tried to pull clothes on and unlock Harry’s door. Before long they were tucked together in the too small single bed, limbs hanging off the edges and duvet not quite covering them. It was uncomfortable and awkward and perfect in every way.

  
“Sweet dreams, love.” The words were fond and full of affection. The last thing Harry heard as he drifted to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr where I am conscious--ramblings. Comments and kudos are lovely things x


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